Christmas dreams
by the local knicker merchant
Summary: A little fantasy of what might be for Carla and Peter come Christmas 2020.


**Christmas dreams**

Peter draped the last string of tinsel over the branches of the Christmas tree. He'd opted for a gold theme; gold baubles, gold tinsel, gold star; he'd even found fairy lights that gleamed as if crafted from the precious metal.

Christmas Eve was kind of late for putting up a tree, he knew that, but he hadn't felt in the festive spirit before now. Not without Carla. While she was absent, so was Christmas. But, now that she was coming back, coming home, he wanted everything to be perfect for her. He wanted to give her a Christmas, a first Christmas in many ways, that she would remember for the rest of her life.

He sighed as he thought back to that traumatic time a few short weeks earlier when he feared she wouldn't live to see another Christmas; when the possibility that their family would be decimated before it was even fully formed was frighteningly real. But they had survived; more than survived, they had thrived. And today she was coming home and their family would be complete.

He stepped back and surveyed his handiwork. He'd decorated more than the tree; he'd hung a wreath of holly leaves with a large red bow above the mantelpiece. On the mantelpiece itself, he'd arranged candles nestled amongst yet more holly leaves, pine cones, and strings of tiny gold baubles.

Thank goodness for Google, he thought with a sigh of relief. He'd never have known how to make their home look this good without a lot of help. He couldn't help but laugh at the memory of himself poring over hundreds of images of Christmas decorations he'd searched for on his phone as he stood, bewildered and completely out of his depth, in the middle of the store while trying to decide what to buy.

He had wanted to it be perfect and, looking about himself with satisfaction, he thought it was. But, wherever he turned in the room, whether to the tree and the brightly wrapped presents that were stacked underneath it, or the wreath above the mantelpiece, his eyes kept being drawn back to his favourite decoration; the decoration that truly symbolised what this Christmas meant to him. And that was the six red Christmas stockings hung all in a row on the mantelpiece, each with the name of the recipient embroidered across it with gold thread. Five of the six stockings were bulging with small gifts that he'd painstakingly chosen and wrapped. His stocking however remained empty; there was no one around to fill it for him. But he didn't care, his true gifts were coming home to him today and he wanted nothing more for Christmas than their presence.

"Knock knock," Ken said cheerfully as he let himself into his son's home, his arms laden with gifts.

"Oh, hi dad," Peter greeted his father, hurrying to relieve him of his burden. "Let me get these…"

"Thank you," Ken said gratefully as he looked about the room, admiring the decorations. "This is new…"

"Do you like it?" Peter asked, his chest puffing out with pride at his achievements. "All my own handiwork."

"It's lovely," Ken complimented his son. "And perfect timing too."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, confused.

"This," Ken said as he presented Peter with a small coated cardboard box tied with ribbon. "Just a couple of little keepsakes."

Peter took the box his dad proffered with a smile, a smile that only widened when he opened the box and saw what was inside.

"Oh, dad," Peter murmured as he gazed at the contents of the box. "These are perfect, thank you."

"I thought you and Carla could start a little family tradition," Ken explained. "Talking of Carla…?"

"Actually, she's expecting me soon, so…"

"I'll let you get on," Ken said. "You'll give her my love?"

"Of course."

"And when you're settled…?"

"You'll be top of the visitors' list, I promise."

"Thank you," Ken smiled gratefully. "You must be relieved that it's all over."

"All over?" Peter mused on the thought. "It's not over at all, it's all just beginning."

* * *

Peter walked down that familiar hospital corridor with a lighter step than he had those countless times over the past few weeks, all those times when he wasn't sure what would greet him when he walked into that room, when his steps were dogged by fear.

But today he was greeted by Carla; smiling, positive and healthy, if somewhat nervous about what lay ahead.

"There's nothing to be nervous about, love," Peter tried to reassure her.

"That's easy for you to say, you've done this before! Besides…" Carla added with a worried expression furrowing her brow. "There's two of them this time!"

"Where are they anyway?" Peter asked, glancing about the room as if they could be hiding somewhere, as ridiculous as he knew that idea was.

"The nurse took them for a final check before we make our great escape," Carla explained. "Oh… here they are."

Carla and Peter both looked to the door and watched as a nurse wheeled a special twin-sized hospital bassinet, with a stainless steel frame on wheels and a clear acrylic capsule sat on top through which they could see two little babies, swaddled nice and cosy, with their little pink faces peeking above the blankets, and their downy heads protected by soft little hats.

The new parents huddled together and gazed down on their babies, marvelling at the two miracles before them.

"Well?" Carla asked the nurse anxiously. "Was everything okay?"

"Everything was great," he reassured them. "They're both coming along really well. They've put on enough weight now that they're feeding regularly."

"And that infection?"

"All cleared up. Now," the nurse looked around the room, searching. "Have you got a pram or car seats to put them in?"

"Yes, I brought their pram," Peter said, nodding towards the stylish double buggy with two smart matching canopies he'd left by the door.

"Great. Okay, give me a few minutes to organise your discharge papers and you can be on your way."

"This is it," Carla said as soon as the nurse had left the room. "I can't believe it. After everything…"

"Are you still scared?"

Carla looked from the twins, those two precious babies that would rely on her and Peter for absolutely everything, whose lives began with trauma and turmoil, but she determined would continue with love and security, and then across to Peter, looking him directly in the eye. Searching. And finding.

"No." She shook her head emphatically. "I'm not scared."

* * *

"Oh, Peter!" Carla gasped as she pushed the pram into their home, the first time she'd entered it as a mother. "What have you done?"

"Do you like it?" Peter asked, suddenly filled with doubts; had he done the right thing?

"Like it? I love it." Carla, placing a hand on either side of Peter's face, stroking his cheek gently, kissed him tenderly on the lips. "Thank you."

She wandered around the room, taking it all in, running her fingers along the mantelpiece, down the softness of the red and gold stockings that hung there.

"Did you do this all yourself?"

"Don't sound so surprised," Peter shook his head, pretending to be offended. "I've got some interior decorating skills, you know."

Carla merely raised an eyebrow.

"I may have had some help," Peter conceded.

"Oh yeah…?"

"The internet's a wonderful thing."

Carla laughed. "Well, I appreciate the effort. It's beautiful. Something special for the twins first Christmas."

"There is one thing left to do," Peter disclosed, as he opened the box Ken had given him earlier and presented it to Carla. "A gift from dad. I thought we could hang them on the tree together?"

"Are you serious?" Carla exclaimed as she reached out and carefully picked out the contents of the box. "These are exquisite!"

One by one, Carla held Ken's gifts in the air, smiling as the light danced off the smooth curves. They were two frosted glass Christmas tree baubles with snowflakes etched on the surface, along with the names of their twins, one on each bauble, written across it in gold. Inside each bauble, were hundreds of shiny snowflake sequins, all different sizes, that fluttered like a snow globe when lightly shaken. The snowflakes in little Aidan's bauble were blue, while Rosamund's bauble was filled with pink snowflakes.

"Shall we?" Carla asked as she handed one of the baubles to Peter.

Together they stepped to the Christmas tree and hung the family baubles next to each other on the tree.

"We'll have to get more next year," Carla suggested. "One for Si, one for you, and one for me."

"Yeah," Peter agreed. "Our own family tradition."

* * *

Carla flopped down next to Peter on the sofa and rested her head on his shoulder wearily.

"They asleep?" Peter asked as he draped his arm around Carla's shoulder.

"Finally," Carla sighed. "I'm still trying to figure out which cry means 'I want boobs' and which cry means 'I've messed my nappy' and which cry… you get the idea."

"Yeah," Peter murmured as he kissed Carla softly on the forehead. "I guess it'll take time. You're not worried about it, are you?"

"Nope," Carla shook her head. "Are you expecting me to be?"

"I dunno," Peter said warily, fearful of provoking a reaction. "It would be understandable…"

"Well, I'm not."

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

"Oh, god, who's that?" Peter rose to his feet and hurried to the door. "Alright alright! What's all this banging?" Peter demanded as he opened the door to his sister, Tracy. "We've got babies trying to sleep in here."

"I don't care. There you go, he's all yours." Tracy declared, handing the leash handle she was carrying to Peter. "I'm exhausted! That mutt of yours has got doggy ADHD or summat."

The dog in question, an excitable Weimaraner puppy, pulled away from Peter and ran towards Carla, jumping up onto her lap and smothering her with licky kisses.

"Have you missed me, baby?" She unclipped the leash from the puppy's collar and gave herself up fully to puppy cuddles.

"And Axel?" Tracy asked, her arms folded as she stared with raised eyebrow at the scene playing out in front of her. "What kind of a name is that for a dog?"

"I think it suits him," Peter defended his puppy. "Besides, Simon named him."

"Hmm…" Tracy wasn't so sure. "So, how are the rugrats?"

"Oh, Trace, they're perfect," Peter enthused.

"Do you wanna pop your head in and have a gander?" Carla offered.

"Ahhh…" Tracy weighed up Carla's invitation. "Best not if they're sleeping. You lot are coming to dad's tomorrow, aren't you?"

"We'll see how things go tonight," Peter hedged his bets. "But, yeah, we'll try to pop in."

"Good. Alright, I'm outta here."

Without another word or pleasantry or indeed thought for the family she was leaving behind, Tracy turned and stalked out of the door.

"Thanks, Tracy," Carla called out after her sister-in-law as she exchanged an amused glance with Peter. "It's comforting in a way, don't you think?"

"What's that, love?"

"That Tracy never changes. Tracy will always be Tracy."

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Carla questioned Peter's method as she handed over two small baby hats.

"Yeah," Peter asserted, he had no doubts. "We need to get Axel used to their scent before we introduce them in person."

"Okay," Carla acceded to Peter's supposed superior knowledge of dog training with an indulgent smile as she settled on the sofa, ready to enjoy the show. "Whatever you think's best."

"Axel," Peter kneeled down on the floor next to where Axel the Weimaraner was dozing in front of the fire. "Come here, Axel. Come on."

Axel, still a puppy and full of energy, bounced to his feet at the sound of his master's voice and jumped up onto Peter's knees, extending his tongue as he tried to lick Peter's face.

"That's a good boy, good Axel." Peter scratched Axel behind his ears; the puppy's tail thumped rhythmically on the ground, a sure sign of his enjoyment. "Good boy, yes you are."

With one hand, Peter gently stroked the top of Axel's muzzle, slowly and gently he moved his fingers over the puppy's fur. With his other hand, Peter reached for the two baby hats that had, until recently, been keeping the twins' heads warm. He held the hats to Axel's nose, encouraging him to sniff the fabric, to get used to the new smell in the house.

"That's it then, is it?" Carla asked in disbelief. "He just smells their hats? And then what?"

"And then… they meet!"

* * *

Carla kneeled on the ground in front of Aidan and Rosamund who were happily laying in their bouncers, and looked uncertainly up at Peter.

"I'm a bit nervous about this, Peter," she confessed.

"It'll be fine, I'll have a hold of him the whole time."

"You better," Carla warned. "Cause if he can't get on with them, he's the one out the door."

"I know, I know," Peter placated her. "Are you ready?"

Carla took a deep breath. "Yeah, let's do this."

Peter slipped briefly into their bedroom and returned moments later with Axel by his side, his hand resting gently but firmly on the dog's collar.

"Hey, Axel," Carla called to him. "Do you wanna come meet your brother and sister?"

Axel bounded over to the twins, Peter barely keeping up with him, before he stopped dead in his tracks and stared at these strange alien creatures that had invaded his home. He took a few steps forward and nudged one of Aidan's feet with his nose before backing off. He went in again and this time gave them both a good sniff. He looked up at Carla, as if waiting for a signal.

"Good boy, Axel," Carla spoke in low and soothing tones, as she stroked Axel's head gently. "It's okay, you can say hello." Carla reached out and placed her hand lightly on Aidan's tummy. Taking Carla's cue, Axel explored the twins a little more, sniffing them all over, nuzzling them gently, and even giving Aidan a quick lick.

His curiosity sated for now, Axel flopped down onto the floor in front of the two bouncers, his tail thumping gently on the ground and his eyes fixed on the new additions to his family.

"I take it all back," Carla said in wonderment. "It turns out you were right."

"You know what? I think they're going to be the best of friends."

* * *

Carla unlocked the front door to her and Peter's flat and slipped quietly inside, hoping that Peter wasn't there to see her.

"Back soon xx." Peter stood in the middle of the room facing Carla, a piece of paper in his hand and an accusatory look on his face.

"You going out then?"

"It's not a joke, Carla. Where have you been?"

Carla laughed. "I'm sorry, do I have to get my every movement approved by you these days?"

"No… But, Carla, you've been through a lot lately and I want to make sure you're coping."

"I am."

"So, where were you?"

"I'm not telling you."

"You're not telling me?"

"No."

Peter decided to change tack; he knew Carla could be stubborn. No! She could be pigheaded, that's exactly what she was!

"What's in the bag?"

"This bag?" Carla help up the tote bag she was carrying in addition to her regular handbag.

"Yeah, that bag."

"Nothing."

"Carla! Why won't you tell me what's in the bag?"

"Because you're not asking, you're demanding." Carla pointed out. "Peter, do you trust me or not?"

"Of course I trust you," Peter reassured her. "But I also worry about you."

"Trust is all I'm asking for right now."

"Well then, you've got it."

"Thank you."

Carla walked past Peter and made a beeline for their bedroom but, after glancing back and seeing the look of concern on his face, she changed her mind. Instead of disappearing into the bedroom, she walked over to the fireplace where the Christmas stockings were hanging from the mantelpiece.

"Axel," Carla read the name embroidered in gold on the stocking to the far right. "I can't believe you got the dog a stocking."

"Well, he is part of the family."

"Axel," Carla began her list again. "Aidan, Rosamund, Simon, Carla, Peter. That's quite a family."

"The best family," Peter boasted proudly.

"You're right," Carla agreed with him. "But there's something missing."

"What?"

Carla opened up her tote bag and, one by one, pulled out small gift-wrapped Christmas presents and placed them inside the stocking labelled 'Peter'.

"That's where you were?" Peter asked, suddenly ashamed of his accusations. "You were shopping for presents for me?"

"Yes, you daft beggar." She walked up to him and kissed him softly. "Now, I'm going to go and check on our babies, if that's okay with you?"

"That's okay with me."

"Good."

Carla couldn't resist one last kiss before making her way to the nursery. Peter watched her as she walked away, a big grin on his face, and happiness in his heart.

* * *

Carla trudged into the kitchen on Christmas morning and sat on Peter's knee as he drank his coffee at the kitchen table. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I told you this would happen, didn't I?"

"What's that, love?"

"Babies," Carla said with a long sigh. "Nothing but sleepless nights, the smell of sick and someone– No! two people! trying to get at your boobs all the time!"

"Would you change things if you could? Go back to how things were before?"

Carla took Peter's coffee from his hands and took a great big gulp of the revitalising nectar contained within before answering. "You know what? I can't believe this is Carla Connor talking, but no, I wouldn't change a thing, not for the world."

"Hey," Peter nudged her gently. "It's Carla Barlow now, remember?"

"How could I forget?"

"Well, there was quite a lot going on at the time."

"That's true," Carla couldn't help but smile at the memory. "But still, it was a memorable event, something I'll never forget for as long as I live."

"_Waaaahhh waaaahhh!"_

"I'll go," Peter insisted. "You sit and finish my coffee."

"No arguments from me."

* * *

"There we go," Carla cooed to Aidan as she securely fastened the final tab of his fresh nappy. "All nice and clean again." She leaned over him and blew a raspberry on his tummy. "Let's get you dressed, yes, we will."

Soon she was carrying Aidan, now dressed in a special Christmas-themed onesie and matching hat that Peter had bought and placed in his stocking, into the living room. She paused at the door to drink in the scene before her.

Peter had lit the fire in the grate along with the candles on the mantelpiece; he'd turned the fairy lights on and dimmed the house lights. He was sat cross-legged on the rug in front of the fire, with Rosamund, who, like her brother, was dressed in her own Christmas-themed onesie and matching hat, cradled in his arms. The tableaux was completed by Axel who was curled up in front of them, luxuriating in the warmth that emanated from the fire.

Carla carried Aidan and sank to the ground next to Peter and Rosamund. Axel, immediately recognising the presence of his exalted mistress, shifted his position so that he was curled up next to her, close to her, his muzzle resting on her leg protectively.

They sat in silence for the longest time; they had no need for words right now. They had each other, they had their babies, their home and their puppy. Life was great. Life was surprising, shocking sometimes. Never so shocking as these past few months, this past year even.

Carla suddenly let out a strange noise from her mouth, a mixture of a laugh and a sob and a… she didn't know what. It was a spontaneous outburst of the emotions that were swirling around inside her.

"What on earth was that?" Peter asked with a laugh.

"I dunno," Carla said, joining in with his laughter. "I was just thinking how I never imagined, how I never dared dream that my life would turn out like this. All domestic and…"

"And what?"

"Happy."

"That's the only Christmas present I need," Peter declared. "Merry Christmas, Mrs Barlow."

And then he leaned across to her, kissing her softly on the lips.

He felt a kiss on his forehead, a hand stroking his hair.

"Baby," Carla's voice was muffled as if he was hearing her speak through a thick pane of glass. "Baby, it's time to wake up."

Peter opened his eyes, blinking as the world slowly came back into focus. The light above him flickered, a person was moving across that light. Carla. It was Carla, leaning down over him, looking down on him, stroking his hair, kissing him.

"What were you dreaming about?"

"What d'ya mean?" Peter asked, still groggy and disorientated from his nap.

"You, just now while you were sleeping, you had the soppiest grin on your face."

"Did I?"

"So…? What was the dream about?"

"I dunno, I can't remember."

"I'm surprised you didn't have a nightmare after the amount of food you put away at lunch!"

"Hey," Peter protested. "If you can't over indulge at Christmas, when can you?"

"I guess I'll let you off the hook then. Are you coming to the Rovers? Johnny and Jenny are expecting us any moment now."

"Yeah, of course."

"How about I make you a coffee or summat before we go? Wake you up a bit. Looks like you need it."

"Thanks, love."

As Carla walked towards the kitchen to make the promised coffee, Peter glanced around the room. He was in his dad's house, stretched out on his dad's sofa. Why was he in his dad's house and not in his and Carla's flat? He didn't understand what was going on. Where were the twins? Where was Axel? And where the hell were those decorations that he had spent so much time and effort on?

Then he caught a glimpse of the calendar that was hung on the wall. He looked again, surely he must be seeing things. But no, there it was in black and white. Impossible to ignore.

December 2019. 2019. Not 2020.

The reality set in. He and Carla weren't married. They didn't have twin newborns called Aidan and Rosamund. And they didn't have a puppy called Axel.

Peter shook his head in disbelief. It felt so real. Everything had felt so real. So how could it be a dream? Was it all just a dream? Or was it a premonition?

Only time would tell.


End file.
